Drover, Head of Ranch Security
by Dixie Darlin
Summary: When Hank dies, Drover has to take the title of Head of Ranch Security. With old and new friends alike, will he be able to handle the responsibility and cope with his friend's passing?
1. Goodbye, Old Friend

A/N: If I'm not mistaken, this is the first Hank the Cowdog fic on the site. If so, hooray for me! If not, oh well. This came to me after my grandfather's funeral last May and I just pondered the "what if?" question to death...pun not intended.

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**Chapter One: Goodbye, Old Friend**

_It's me again, Hank the Cowdog. It was a lovely chilly morning in September and pretty much nothing was going on. Which was strange because on THIS ranch, something is always going on. I should know because I'm the Head of Ranch Security. Have I ever discussed with you the significance of this job? If I haven't I'll illastrute---illutate---imitate---sigh, I'll EXPLAIN it to you. As Head of Ranch Security it is MY job to keep this ranch safe from monsters, evil barn cats, coyotes, stray dogs, killer tornadoes, monkey burglars, and the etcetera. Drover obviously can't handle the job so I take it upon myself to fulfill it. _

_What was I talking about before? Oh yeah, it was a kind of a hot day in May, worst I could remember. Even the flies were drooping as they flew lazily through the humid air. Y'know, I always thought it was funny that flies were called "flies" and they "fly". I mean, dogs don't "dog". That makes no sense...anyways, like I said it was hot outside and we were getting ready for a big cattle roundup. See, it was time for us to brand the calves we'd had last month. Okay, WE didn't have the calves, the cows did. Dogs and ignorant cowboys don't give birth to calves..or anything else for that matter._

_Anyways, I was making a final patrol of the western pasture to make sure we didn't miss any of the aforementioned calves. Loper and Slim, the lamebrains who call themselves cowboys, usually goof off while doing any important job including this one and it's usually up to me to get things straightened out. Surprisingly, there weren't any calves that we had skipped over during the roundup process so I made my way to the other side of the ranch towards the large circular pen that was filled with a hundred or so angry calves. Not that I blame them. I wouldn't want a piece of hot iron being pressed against my thigh either. But then again if they weren't so stupid and always running off, maybe we wouldn't have to brand them. So ha._

_At about this time, Drover showed up. He was wearing that stupid grin he always has on complete with big eyes that showed that there was no brain behind them. It figures that he would show up AFTER the work was done. If I had seen him before the roundup, he probably would have started on about his "lame" leg._

_"Mornin', Half-Stepper," I said once he got close enough. "I see you finally decide to show up."_

_"Well, Hank, I woulda loved to help but see, this darned ol' leg of mine got to hurtin' again right when I thought about gettin' up to help," he replied as he sat down in front of me, proceeding to scratch his left ear._

_Right ear. Left---who cares?!_

_I was about to discipline Drover for his laziness when out of the corner of my eye I saw---a calf. A small, slightly underweight brownish-red heifer (that's a female) that was hiding on the other side of her mother drinking her breakfast. How on earth had we missed---phooey. _

_I turned to Drover. "Hey, Drover, to redeem yourself of the punishment I'm about to lash out, why don't you go over there and tell the calf that she needs to shove off her ma and get in with her playmates."_

_"Gosh, Hank, I don't know. She looks like she's eating breakfast right now."_

_"I can SEE that, but the moint of the patter is that she---"_

"Cows don't patter, Hank. They kinda...stomp, I guess is the word. Cats patter."

_"Yeah, and cats are the evil patterers of nature especially Pete."_

_"Y'know, I ain't seen Pete all day. You think he's missing?"_

_"No, he's probably...how did we get started on this?"_

_"Well, you said something about cows pattering and I said that cats patter and cows stomp and then--"_

_"I never said anything about pattering, Drover, I said 'the point of the matter'! Geez, you need to get those ears of yours cleaned out."_

_"Yeah, I guess."_

_"I give up all hope of having a decent conversation with you, Drover. I'll handle the calf situation myself."_

_With that, I turned my back on the little mutt that had tried to divert my attention away from my duty and marched up towards the mother cow and her child. The mother noticed me and gave me a look of somewhat fear. If you've never been around a cow before, well that's what they do when you get near them. They give you a look of wide-eyed dread 'cause they think you're gonna kill them or something. Idiots._

_"G'mornin' Miss Cow. I'm sorry to interrupt your quality time with your child but I'm afraid we need her presence down in the pen with the other children."_

_"She's eating," Mama Cow stated simply._

_"I know that, but she can eat later when she gets done with her business down at the pen. It's branding time, as you well know."_

_"She'll go down there when she's done eating," she told me in an irritated matter._

_Did I care if I made her mad? No. Business is business, and it was my job to take care of it. _

_"Ma'am, if you don't release your child this instant, I might be tempted to use brute force."_

_"Try it, buddy, and see what happens."_

_Oh ho! A stupid cow issuing a threat to ME? The Head of Ranch Security? Oh brother, this was rich. I'd never had a cow back-talk me before so this was pretty funny. But just then, her smart-aleck child peeked out from under her ma's belly and said, "Yeah, mess with my mom and see what happens."_

_Now I can NOT tolerate an undisciplined child such as that. Her mother didn't even get onto her about not respecting her elders! Can you believe that? I lifted my lips to show my fangs at her._

_"Now listen here, missy, you ought not talk to---"_

_"LEAVE MY CHILD ALONE, YOU BULLY!!"_

_HUH?_

_Before I knew what was happening, ol' Mama Cow had raised up on her hind legs with her front legs outstretched in the air and then-------_

_I opened my eyes and felt the mother of all headaches pounding in my brain. It wasn't helping that I could hear Drover's voice screaming in my ears._

_"Hank! Hank! Oh, Hank, PLEASE wake up! Oh my gosh, HANK!!"_

_"Drover, stop that," I said, surprisingly myself by talking in a whisper. Strange, I felt rather weak. _

_"Oh, Hank, you're alive!" he shouted. I could see the tears rolling down his face._

_"Of course I'm alive, you brick, why wouldn't I be?"_

_"That mama cow smashed your head with her hooves, Hank! I thought you were a goner!"_

_Smashed my head? Well, that would explain the headache. Strange, why was it suddenly cold?_

_"Drover, is it cold?"_

_He gave me a strange look. "It's burning up out here."_

_At that moment, I heard somebody, or somebodies, running towards me. Drover backed up and then I saw Slim and Loper kneeling by me._

_"Good honk!" Slim said. "What on earth happened? I ain't never seen so much blood!"_

_BLOOD??_

_"That stupid cow over there attacked him when he got too close to the calf. I saw the whole thing. Good grief, Hank, can't you leave stuff alone?"_

_Gee, thanks for making me feel better, Loper. You're a pal._

_"Should we get him to a vet or something?" Slim asked. He seemed pretty worried. _

_Loper shook his head. "No. He'd never make it in time."_

_WHAT? Guys, I'm still alive down here! I can make it! _

_Drover came towards me again, still crying. "Hank? You gonna die?"_

_"Of course not. What kind of cowdog gets killed by a cow? That's embarrassing."_

_The truth of the matter was that I could actually feel myself passing on. It was kind of an eerie feeling. Like I was getting farther away from everybody._

_"Drover, in the case that I do die...I can't believe I'm saying this...but I need you to be in charge of things while I'm gone."_

_"ME?"_

_"It sure ain't gonna be Pete."_

_"But, Hank, I'm just a chicken-hearted little mutt, I don't know how to run a ranch! What if nobody listens to me? What if I get confused? Who's gonna explain things to me?"_

_"You're grown-up now, Drover. You don't need me to do stuff for you. It's time to act like an adult."_

_I could feel myself fading even more. My time was up. "Congratulations, son. You're the new Head of Ranch Security."_

_"Oh Hank!"_

_"Tell everyone bye for me. Good-bye, Drover."_

_And with that, my story was over. Kinda surprising ain't it? Never expected to happen, did you? Neither did I._

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How will the ranch cope without Hank? How will Drover run things on his own?


	2. The Cat Almost Wins

**Drover, Head of Ranch Security**

**Chapter Two: The Cat Almost Wins**

It was a mournful day on the Texas ranch as Loper shoveled the last of the dirt on top of Hank's grave, which everyone decided to place inside Sally May's garden so a wild animal couldn't get to it. Everyone was there---Loper, Sally May,Little Alfred, Baby Molly, Slim, Drover...even Pete was there.

Sally May dabbed her eyes with a tissue as she shifted Molly to her other arm. "Shouldn't somebody say a few words?"

"He was your dog, Loper," Slim told his friend.

Loper sighed. "Boy, ol' Hank. I can't imagine not having him around. Even though he stunk, got into trouble constantly, acted like he didn't have a brain at times, and pretty much got in the way---he was still a darned good dog. Somehow he managed to clown his way around into being the hero. He saved me from quicksand, saved Alfred from a rattlesnake, delivered medicine for Molly, and other numerous things. I played my share of practical jokes on him and even though he shunned me at first, he always came back."

Sally May sniffed away some tears. "Hank, although you were always harrassing my cat, ruining my garden, and possessing my son to do devilish things, you still managed to win my heart a few times. When you got hurt, you always came to me first---I guess because you figured I was a good enough mother to my children, that I could do the same for you. Bye, Hank." She started crying, which upset Molly and made her start squalling as well.

Alfred wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve. "Bye, Hankie. You were my best friend. I'm gonna miss playing pirates and spaceship with you."

"Gonna miss you, Hank," Slim said. "You always managed to tolerate my lamebrain schemes and my singing. Not everyone can do that."

Everyone stood around in silence for a while. "I guess that's it then," Loper stated. Everyone quietly went back towards the inside of the house for dinner, although not really anybody felt like eating.

Drover sat there in front of the grave for a while longer before he decided to leave. Even though he was feeling dreary, he somehow managed to jump the fence surrounding the garden without getting tangled up. He decided he'd go to his special hide-out spot in the back of the machine shed so he could be alone for a while.

"Drover?" he heard Pete say from the side. He turned around and saw Pete sitting in his iris patch inside the garden. He looked kinda sad, which was surprising given his and Hank's relationship. "I just wanted you to know I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Pete," Drover told him, continuing his walk towards the machine shed.

Pete twitched his tail and turned around to look at the little grave that was on the opposite end of the garden. The idea of Hank's body being in that close proximity to HIS body gave him the creeps, so he leaped the fence and "pattered" after Drover. Besides, he wasn't done talking to him yet...

"Wait a minute, Drover, ol' pal," he called, managing to get Drover to slow down a little bit so the cat could catch up. "I had a question for ya, if it's all right."

"I reckon so," Drover sighed. He wasn't really in a mood for questions right now, but given that he WAS the new Head of Ranch Security, he figured he'd best get used to answering them.

"Now that Hankie's gone...well...I just wondered if that puts YOU in charge," he asked with a slight grin that Drover didn't catch.

"Yeah, Pete, he told me that I was in charge now."

"My my, what a BIG responsibility that must be! I mean, you have to do all that stuff Hankie did that you always bailed out on before. Like, checking ALL those pastures, chasing 'monsters', rounding up cattle..." He was smirking now and began studying the claws of his right front paw. "Since Hankie's gone and that leaves you, I can imagine that everybody's gonna start yelling at YOU when things go wrong."

Drover's bottom lip started trembling. "You're right, Pete. That's a lotta work for a little scaredy dog like me. I don't monsters and I don't know how to do any of that stuff that Hank did because I was too lazy to help him and know I wish I had!" He busted down into tears, collapsed to the ground and covered his nose and eyes with his front legs.

Pete's smirk turned into a somewhat evil grin and patted Drover on the shoulder. "Poor Drover, I didn't mean to make you upset. I was just trying to help you know what your job title demanded."

"I know, Pete, you're a pretty good pal."

"Mmm-hmm, that's right, I am a good pal. And I'm such a good pal that I'll even tell you how you can get rid of this burden you're carrying."

Drover stopped crying almost instantly and peeked his eyes out from under his leg. "You do? Really?"

"Sure I do. Afterall, cats are very intelligent plan-makers. Now, if you _really _don't want the job, Drover, you could...give it away to someone else."

Drover sniffed as he picked himself up off the ground. "Someone else? Like who?"

"Like...I hate to sound conceited but..._me_ for example."

"YOU?"

"Of course, who else on this ranch is smart enough to handle the job? Obviously not the chickens. Where would we be if this outfit were run by _chickens_?"

"Well, I'm chicken-hearted---"

"That's close enough, don't you think? Now why don't we arrange some sort of---"

"BUT I'M NOT ENTIRELY STUPID!" Drover growled, sticking in his nose in the cat's face.

Pete wasn't expecting Drover's irate reaction. His back curved up and he hissed, something he ever rarely did to Drover. He had been expecting an easy victory and was not pleased at this turning point.

"You just want the job for yourself! You never wanted to help me at all, you selfish thing!"

"It's for the best, Drover," Pete tried to explain, his claws ready to scratch if the dog's nose got close enough again. "Admit it, you can't handle this."

"No, I can't," he stated. "But I'm gonna try because Hank told me to and he'd be very upset if a CAT were in charge."

"Hank's gone, it's not like you're gonna have to sit in the corner if you don't grant his last request!"

"I'd feel terrible if I didn't, Pete. The whole time I've been here, I hardly ever did what Hank told me to do. I oughta be a true friend and at least do THIS for him." Drover turned his back on the enraged cat and head back towards the machine shed.

Pete was quivering with anger that his plan failed. "I thought we were friends, Drover!"

Drover stopped. All these years, he'd thought him and Pete had been somewhat friends as well. The cat had usually never tried to dupe him before, probably because next to Sally May, Drover was the only other person on the ranch that was nice to him. Drover turned his head and saw the cat still sitting in the same spot where he had left him.

"So did I, Pete," he called over his shoulder, and continued walking.


	3. Monsters

**Drover, Head of Ranch Security**

**Chapter Three:Monsters**

Nobody hardly ever went into the farthest borders of the machine shed---a place where the Loper and Sally May stored things they once had use for in the days before children. It was dark, musty, and the silence was spinetingling. So it was a surprise that Drover would be the only ranch resident to make this eerie place his special hide-out---where he came to escape Reality.

Since his argument with Pete, Drover had spent the rest of the afternoon laying on the old sheet-covered couch that he had deemed as his special seat. He remembered when Slim was trying to drag Hank to obedience school, Hank had made a surprise visit to Drover and had asked if he could stay back there for safety. Drover remembered not granting the request, since he had always felt rather possessive about the place and wasn't too happy of Hank being there in the first place. After all, Hank was a part of the Reality that Drover was always trying to escape from, and the older dog's presence seem to ruin the solitary mood. Hank had ended up comandeering the place and even stole Drover's special seat, which really made the little dog mad so out of revenge he purposely led Slim to where Hank was so he could go to obedience school. But after the fact, he did feel a little bad about doing so. Hank hadn't always been in his right mind, he knew, and held this certain air of grandeur about him. Drover wished HE was confident in himself like that.

He hadn't realized he had drifted off to sleep until the sound of hoot owl outside woke him up. He jerked himself awake, his mind scrambling to figure out where he was and to focus his eyes to the extreme darkness that surrounded him. Even though this place was HIS, he had to admit that at night it was pretty doggone creepy.

Drover made his way through the maze of junk that was thrown about the floor of the shed. The task was simple only to him because he had memorized the entire shed contents. If someone else were to try to come back there, they'd trip and break their nose.

He finally made it to the opening of the shed and glanced around in the dark. Normally he would make his way back to the gas tanks to his gunnysack bed, but considering that Hank had slept there just this morning, the idea of it struck him a little uncomfortable. After searching his memory for another place to sleep, he figured that where he was right now was as good a place as any to continue sleeping, so he plopped down on the concrete floor and closed his eyes.

He was almost in dreamland when he heard the sound of faint scratching getting closer and closer to him. He didn't recognize what it was at first and naturally he sat back up and scanned the outside world for something that _could _make that noise.

"Hello?" he asked timidly, not sure what he would get as an answer.

"Hello?" he heard back from in front of him, nearly spooking the little mutt enough to go charging back into the shed.

"Who's there?" Drover replied, hoping it wasn't a coyote or a stray dog.

"It's me, J.T."

Drover blew out a breath of relief. J.T. Cluck, the ranch's rooster, wasn't one to be out and about at night. The rooster scurried up to him and he had a look of panic in his eyes.

"Say, dog, word's been spreadin' that _you're _the security around here, right?"

Would people _please _stop asking him that?

"What's wrong, J.T.?"

"What's wrong? He asks 'what's wrong?'! Good grief, dog, what is wrong is that there is a monster in my henhouse frightening all my hens. I suggest you follow me and chase it off this instant!"

Drover gulped. "A monster? You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. What you waitin' on, dog, let's get to it!"

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Drover was scared to death. It had always been Hank's job to run off monsters...even though, most of the time the monster wasn't ever actually a 'monster', but some normal everyday thing----example being that the alleged laundry monster had simply been Eddy the Raccoon. Drover stopped shivering for a minute when he thought about that. Maybe the chickens had just gotten spooked by a mouse or something. Hopefully. 

All the hens were outside, clucking nervously about the monster that was inside their home. J.T. pointed his wing towards the henhouse. "It's in there, dog, get rid of it!"

Drover stared at the henhouse for a minute before sucking in his gut and making his way towards the front entrance. He turned his head towards J.T. and asked,

"Uh, J.T., what does this monster look like?"

"Um...well...it was_...huge_, with a giant mouth full of razor sharp teeth and long arms to grab you with."

Oh dear, that didn't sound very normal at all. It sure wasn't gonna be Eddy the Rac this time. Drover started shaking again, pondering whether or not to go inside or not.

"What's the matter, dog? You scared?"

Yeah he was, but he couldn't let _them _know that. Drover took in a deep breath. "It don't matter whether I am or not. A dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do."

"That's the spirirt, now hurry up and run that monster out so we can sleep!"

Drover was getting agitated with the little rooster but he chose to ignore it. He shut his eyes and boldly stepped inside the henhouse. He opened his eyes after counting to five and glanced around the place. All he could see was empty nests that the hens had abandoned. He sniffed the air and couldn't get anything but the usual chicken smell.

"J.T., you _sure _you saw a monster?"

"You callin' me a liar, dog? I saw it with my own two eyes!" the rooster clucked angrily from outside. "It might be hiding in one of the nests."

Drover figured that made sense, so he steered off to the left to look inside the first nest. Nothing but a couple of eggs in there. Phew. The next few nests had only eggs in them too. They probably all did but he knew the hens wouldn't feel safe unless he checked them all. The sooner he got done, the sooner he could go back to sleep.

He had just finished looking over the last nest on the bottom row when suddenly a figure rose from the top row and made a terrible "RRRAAARRR!!!" sound. Drover let out a yelp of surprise and stumbled backwards, ending up flat on his backside.

"GET OUT OF MY HENHOUSE!!"

Drover was absolutely petrified. The dark shadowy figure loomed over him with its arms spread out ready to snatch him up and devour him. Drover put his paws over his eyes.

"No, don't eat me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Just then he heard a horde of laughter coming from outside. What on earth, why were they laughing? The monster was right there and...

J.T. and the others were crowded around the front door of the house laughing their fool heads off. "Oh brother, dog, I can't believe you fell for that! Ya really thought it was real!"

Drover looked confused and stared at the giant fat chicken in front of him that had been hiding on purpose. She had a big booming laugh that almost made the floorboards shake.

Embarrassed beyond imagination, Drover turned himself back onto his feet and hurdled his way out the door and back to the machine shed, the chickens laughter still ringing in his ears. Why was everybody trying to hard to see him fail? Maybe he was a joke after all.

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If there's any "invisible" readers out there, PLEASE REVIEW!!!! I LOVE REVIEWS!!!


	4. Beulah Visits

**_Drover, Head of Ranch Security_**

**Chapter Four: Beulah Visits**

Drover spent the rest of the night hiding in his gunnysack under the gas tanks. He wished he could somehow melt into the ground and never have to deal with his new job but he knew that was impossible. Dogs don't melt.

It was around two in the afternoon when he heard a pickup pull up into the driveway. He perked his ears up at the familiar hum of the motor and the way the tires sounded when they squealed to a stop. It was Billy's truck; Billy lived on the ranch next door. And when Billy showed up for a visit, that usually meant Beulah the Collie and her boyfriend Plato the Bird Dog had shown up as well. Drover wasn't sure if he felt like talking today, not even to Beulah. She would only remind him of all the times Hank had tried to win her affections and failed.

He buried himself further into his gunnysack to try and disappear into an invisible void. Maybe nobody would see him. Maybe nobody would bother him for a while.

He was wrong.

"Drover?" he heard a soft feminine voice ask from in front of his nose. "Drover, what are you doing under there?"

"Trying to disappear."

"You know that's not going to work. Come out so I can talk to you."

"I don't wanna talk."

He heard a sigh. "Drover, I know you must feel upset about what happened. I was shocked when I heard the news too. You're not going to be the only one who misses him."

"I saw it happen. I saw Hank die. Hank's not supposed to die, he was invincible."

"I know he may have seemed that way, but he wasn't. He was just a normal dog like the rest of us. Drover, _please_ come out. I don't like talking to gunnysacks."

Drover thought about coming out but then changed his mind. "Miss Beulah, I really don't feel like talking about Hank right now. I'm sorry."

There was a pause. "We don't have to talk about Hank if you don't want to."

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise, but only if you come out from under there."

Drover decided that Beulah wasn't going to leave if he didn't do what he was told so he did it. He pushed himself out backwards out of the gunnysack and sat on his haunches, staring at the ground. He didn't want to look at anyone.

"That's better," she said. "How have you been?"

"Fine I guess," he told her in a quiet voice, pawing the ground gently with one paw. "I'm in charge now."

"You're what?"

"In charge. Y'know, of the ranch. Hank told me that."

"I thought you didn't want to talk about Hank."

"I don't," he said, his lip quivering. "I don't want to think about him but I can't help it. I can't help but think about what a pathetic replacement I am to him."

"Aww, Drover, don't say things like that. You'll do a good job being a ....whatever it was he called himself."

"Head of Ranch Security."

"Yes, that," Beulah nodded. "Besides, you've only started. You have to give a new job time to grow on you, you know. I'm sure Hank wasn't that good when he first started."

Drover didn't say anything in response. Beulah sighed. She was getting nowhere. The whole point of her coming out here was to try and give Drover a pep talk since she figured he would be like this.

"Well....I'm going to go pay my respects. Where's the grave?"

"In the front yard garden. You'll have to jump the fence. Don't let Sally May catch you though. She'll throw a frying pan at ya."

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Beulah walked back to Billy's truck where Plato was waiting on here.

"How is the little guy?" he asked her as she walked up.

"Not so good," she told him. "He's exactly like I figured he'd be. Let's just go pay our respects and hope Billy doesn't want to visit long."

"All right, honey lamb," Plato said, jumping down to walk with her to the garden. "I'm gonna miss ol' Hank. He got me outta all kinds of trouble. Even though I got the feeling he didn't like me too much. I wonder why that is. You know why he might not have liked me?"

"Who knows, Plato. Hank was rather strange at times," Beulah answered, although she knew very well why Hank _hated _Plato. He had always had this crazy belief that Plato had stolen her away from him, although that wasn't true. She and Hank had never been a couple. Oh sure, she liked him as a friend and he could be fun to hang out with, but he just wasn't "boyfriend material". He was always so busy doing his precious job, going off into the wilderness without warning, getting in trouble. He was rude and crude. Plato was well behaved and soft-spoken—a little quirky, but still a perfectly decent guy.

Not that she hadn't _wanted _to like Hank. He had just made it so hard for her to do so.

"_Well, it's certainly too late for him to change his ways NOW,_" she thought to herself.


	5. Roscoe

A/N: So sorry for the very long delay in updates. I think everyone knows by now about my terrible case of writer's block that I've had for a few years now it seems. Anyhow, I just got done reading Book 53 "Drover's Secret Life" and suddenly got inspired to start writing for this story again. If you haven't read this book, do so! It's all from Drover's POV about his life before he met Hank. Like an autobiography, let's say.

_**Drover, Head of Ranch Security**_

**Chapter Five: Roscoe**

Meanwhile, in the small town of Twitchell, Hank's sister Maggie and her four young children had no clue that Hank had passed away. Maggie only knew it had been a long time since she had seen her brother, but of course everytime he came to visit he just got on her nerves.

Since Hank's last visit, his nieces and nephews had grown old enough to get adopted into families. Spot, Barbara, and April had already found nice homes. The only one left was Roscoe, the oldest and the one that liked Uncle Hank's visits the most. He wanted to be a cowdog just like him one day and was not too keen on the idea of becoming sometimes housepet. That was why everytime a family came over to look at him, he always misbehaved so that they wouldn't want him.

Maggie was growing increasingly worried about her oldest child, not to mention impatient and finally decided to have a talk with him.

"Roscoe....we need to have a talk about this insane phobia you have about leaving home."

"Aw, Mother, I'm not afraid of leaving home," Roscoe told her as he chewed on a bone. "I just don't want to be a town dog is all."

"Well, honey, the only kind of dogs here ARE town dogs."

"I know, that's why I don't want to get adopted by these people."

Maggie sighed. "Then what kind of people DO you want to get adopted by."

"Cowboys."

Maggie stared at him for a few momentss. "Cowboys?"

"Yeah. I want to be a cowdog like Uncle Hank."

Maggie put a paw up to her head. "I think I'm getting a headache."

"Mother, don't play that angle with me. I know you're only faking."

"Roscoe, your Uncle Hank is not exactly a great role model. He stinks, he gets in trouble, he gets thrown in the pound, he gets in fights—"

The young pup wagged his tail. "I know, doesn't that sound like fun!"

Maggie shook her head. She didn't know how to explain to her child that ranch life was dangerous and was no place for a pup like him, especially considering that he had lived in a backyard all his life.

Then she got an idea. It was crazy, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not, but it was worth a shot if it would get her son to reconsider this crazy dream of being a cowdog.

"Roscoe, I have an idea."

"What's that?" Roscoe asked as he shook his collar, complete with name tag.

"Why don't you go to visit your Uncle Hank out in the country," she told him. "Stay a while and see if you really like being a cowdog. I would hate for you to get stuck doing something you may not really like."

"Wow, you mean it, Mother?" Roscoe grinned, his tail wagging faster. "I can really go?"

"Of course. But you have to come back when you've made a final decision, all right?"

"Yeah sure! I mean...uh...yes, ma'am! But....I don't know how to get to his ranch."

"Don't worry, I do....unfortunately."

* * *

Roscoe kept repeating his mother's instructions in his head on how to get to Hank's ranch. He was so excited that he was going to visit. Wouldn't Uncle Hank be proud that one of his nephews wanted to be just like him!

He thought about going to see his siblings and brag that he was going to go off on an adventure (hee hee) but he decided that would be burning daylight and instead chose to just head on out of town. He had heard stories about the dogcatcher and he tried his best to stick to the alleys and dark places to avoid getting caught. He remembered when Uncle Hank had taken him and his siblings on garbage patrol. That was lots of fun! That is until the girls had went off and blabbed to Mother about getting fleas. Oh well.

Roscoe finally saw the sign that read "You Are Now Leaving Twitchell! Come Back And Visit!"

"Yeah, I MIGHT come back and visit," Roscoe told the sign as he went past it and headed out into the great wide open country.

* * *

The country was a lot bigger than Roscoe had ever dreamed. There were no noisy cars, no fences, no one bumping into you at every turn.....just dirt and grass and a big blue sky. Roscoe sniffed the air deeply. Ahh, so fresh. Wildflowers of different colors decorated the ditches that he walked along. A few bees buzzed around him as they gathered pollen. Yep, the country was already the best thing ever!

Roscoe was enjoying his time on the open range until the sky grew dark and he could no longer see where he was going. He hadn't realized he had been travelling for so long. He also didn't realize that his little paws were sore from walking. Roscoe looked up at the small twinkling stars. It was rare that he ever saw them, thanks to the town's streetlights. He only saw them when the electricity went out. There were millions of them and they were so beautiful out here.

The young pup sighed and curled up amongst the flowers in the ditch to take a nap. Hopefully it wouldn't be too much longer until he reached Uncle Hank's ranch.

All of a sudden, he heard a howl. Roscoe picked his head up and glanced around him in fright. What was that? He heard it again. The fur on the back of his neck stood up. Could it be....coyotes?

If it WERE coyotes, maybe he shouldn't stick around too long and find somewhere else to nap. He didn't want his mother to find out that he had become coyote chow before he ever reached his destination. It would break her heart and she would blame herself for sending him out here.

Oh, but his paws were hurting him more now that he had finally let them rest. Maybe if he just laid still and kept quiet, the coyotes wouldn't find him....he hoped.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING

Dawn finally came and Roscoe didn't get eaten by coyotes, much to his relief. His paws felt much better and he decided to continue on his way. At last he reached some fences and his heart leaped. His mother had told him to look for fences and that would be the outer boundaries of the ranch. Excited, the pup crawled underneath the boards and start running across the pasture.

Up ahead he spotted some large, strange creatures eating the grass. He stopped short and studied them for a while, for he had never seen such things. One of them had a giant bell hanging from her neck and some had babies drinking milk from them. He assumed they must be either horses or cows, but he was unsure which was which. He just knew that both lived on the ranch and ate grass.

Being a curious puppy, Roscoe decided to ask them what they were. He cautiously stepped up towards the large creatures, who suddenly stopped eating and looked up to stare at him cautiously. The babies jumped up and ran a few yards away as if they had just seen a ghost. Roscoe thought that was odd that they should be scared of him. He was just a puppy after all.

"What do you want, little puppy?" one of the creatures asked him in a rude voice. "Are you one of those strays that likes to chase and torment us?"

"Huh? No, I'd never do that. I'm too small anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you are kinda puny. So what do you want?"

"I just wondered what you were."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I've never been to the country before and wanted to know if you were a cow or a horse."

The creatures all looked at each other and much to Roscoe's surprise they started to laugh.

"He wants to know if we're cows or horses, Meredith!" said the one he had been talking to.

"I heard him, Frances, isn't that funny!"

Frances glared down at the puppy. "Now see here, runt, I'm a cow. And if you don't back off, the bull is going to get you."

"Bull?" Roscoe asked, gulping. He'd heard Uncle Hank talk about bulls before and they sounded mean.

"Yeah, and here's my advice. Go back to your little town home where you came from. The country is no place for a runt like you."

"It's no place for regular sized dogs either!" Meredith added. "You heard what Harriet did to that dog the other day that tried to take away her calf, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did. Serves him right. He was always barking at us and ordering us around."

Roscoe wondered who they were talking about. "What dog?"

"Oh, this stupid mutt that calls himself....oh what was that stupid title he always introduced himself with?" Frances asked.

"Head of Ranch Security."

"Yeah, that's it. Looked a lot like you, little puppy. Hope he wasn't a relative."

The two stupid cows started laughing. Roscoe felt his body turn cold. Uncle Hank got hurt? By a friend of these two cows? How...how dare they! And they were laughing about it!

Without saying goodbye, Roscoe took off racing across the pasture in efforts to find where the house was to see if Uncle Hank was okay.

* * *

Poor Roscoe :( He's gonna be in for a shock. Sorry if this was boring :(


	6. A New Friend

_**Drover, Head of Ranch Security**_

**Chapter Six: A New Friend**

Drover sniffed around at the Co-op dog food that had just been placed in his hubcap dinner bowl. It had never been very appetizing and it seemed even worse now that he had no one to share it with. Loper and Slim watched Drover turn away and head back to the gas tanks.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with that dog," Loper shook his head. "He was already worthless, and now he's even worse since Hank died."

"Just get rid of him, then," Slim commented. "I'm sure he'd make a good lap dog for some old church lady."

"Very funny. 'Sides, I can't get rid of him. He's Sally May's dog, and she'd throw a fit."

"Oh, he's Sally May's dog now, huh?"

"He's ALWAYS been hers, even though she doesn't take care of him. It was HER idea to bring the little runt home in the first place. I just get stuck feeding him for doing nothing. He's as bad as that derned cat of hers."

Drover didn't hear anything the cowboys were saying about him. He was still wrapped up in his thoughts. He was already a failure at being a Head of Ranch Security after only a few days. Everybody thought he was a joke. Even the chickens were smarter than he was. Maybe he SHOULD have given Pete the job. Sigh. What's a little white mutt to do?

* * *

Roscoe ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore. Phew, actually running was hard work. He'd never had to actually do it before except when playing tag. His heart felt ready to explode so he decided to just calm down and do a jog the rest of the way. But his head was full of spinning thoughts. Had Uncle Hank gotten REALLY hurt? Was he okay? Was this a bad time for company? Or was a good time so that he could help him run things while he was injured?

He had just gotten over the top of a big hill and could make out what looked to be a giant red house. No, not a house. Must be a barn. Barns were red according to Uncle Hank. Roscoe was just about to head down there when he suddenly heard some frantic "moo" sounds. He turned behind him and saw to his horror that the same cows he had just talked to were being chased around and bullied by some dogs.

"Those must be the strays they were referring to," Roscoe said to himself as he watched a big one snap at Meredith's heels.

Roscoe's first instincts were to go down there and tell them to leave the cows alone. But then he thought that maybe the cows deserved it for being mean about Uncle Hank getting hurt. Besides, he was too small to do anything anyway. However, he figured that cows were stupid animals (according to Uncle Hank) and besides the baby calves didn't need to get bullied like that. And if Uncle Hank was hurt, he wouldn't be able to do the job himself.

"Hey!" Roscoe exclaimed. "If I can run those dogs off, Uncle Hank will REALLY want me to stick around!"

He put on his best "game face" and started running back down the hill (which was a lot easier than going UP). Wow, frantic cows were rather dangerous! He had to step out of their way as they trampled around in fright.

He saw one little scrawny brown dog with pointed ears chasing a calf. The poor thing was scared to death as it tried to evade the dog's jaws. Roscoe got angry seeing a baby animal getting treated that way and dove in to the rescue. He rammed into the dog's side to knock him over to the ground and help the calf get away.

The dog gasped for air and started coughing, staring at the pup in shock. He couldn't believe a mere youngster had just knocked him over! The other three gang members noticed something was up and stopped, allowing the other cows to get to safety.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?" said a huge blackish dog, apparently the leader. "Hey, who is this pup?"

A bulldog lumbered up to Roscoe and stuck his slobbering jaw in his face. "Looks, like a little scrawny mutt puppy, Buster."

"A puppy?" Buster sneered. "Look here, kid. Who do you think you are trying to declare war on us? You realize Muggs here could eat you for breakfast?"

The bulldog smiled and licked his chops. "Yeah, I could eat you for breakfast!"

Roscoe gulped, his eyes wide with fear. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea....

* * *

Drover had just gotten to sleep when he suddenly heard a ruckus over the hill. It sounded like the cows and calves going into a panic. Oh great, hopefully not a stampede! He prayed they wouldn't crash the fence and run over him.

Oh well, stampedes were the cowboys job. Not his. They would take care of it. Drover settled back down to get some more shut eye. A few minutes drifted past and he noticed that the noise was still going on. Apparently Slim and Loper had not heard the noises and were not going to take care of business. Maybe he should find them and let them know.

Drover forced himself up and looked around the barn where he thought they had been earlier but now were not. He barked a few times but nobody answered him. Great. Apparently HE was going to have to settle the matter himself. Not that it would do any good, he would probably make it worse. Bummer.

* * *

Buster gave Roscoe a hard long look. "Say, he looks kinda familiar, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, he does resemble someone familiar," Muggs commented, still pointing his nose in Roscoe's face.

"He kinda looks like that nosy cowdog that's always trying to start fights with us," Buster added. "In fact, you look A LOT like him....only you're more of a yellow color."

"Hahaha, you're yellow!" Muggs laughed, spraying slobber in the pup's face. "Yellow means you're a chicken! Yellow-bellied coward, hahaha!"

That made Roscoe mad. "I'm not scared of YOU," he said bravely.

Buster showed all his pointy teeth. "You should be."

The other dogs start circling Roscoe menacingly. "You picked the wrong gang to pick on, little runt. We'll show you who's the boss around here."

* * *

Drover looked over the hill and saw the group of cows had finally stopped running around and mooing, but that they were all huddled together and whispering to themselves. Curious, Drover eased down the other side of the hill and decided to ask what was going on.

"You, dog!" one of the mother cows called out to him. "Those stray dogs were trying to attack us again!"

"Stray dogs?" Drover gulped. He automatically assumed that it was Buster and his gang. Oh dear, Hank had trouble himself with those guys. There was no way Drover could possibly take them on!

"Yes, and they traumatized my little daughter! Go out there and tell them to back off!"

"Y-you want ME to do it?"

"Well of course, stupid, you're a cowdog. That's what you're SUPPOSED to do. Besides, there's a puppy out there that needs rescuing."

"A puppy?" Drover asked. Where on earth had a puppy come from? There were no puppies on this ranch because there were no mother dogs on this ranch. And Drover would've certainly known if there were a mother dog around.

"Yes, a puppy," the cow said aggravatedly. "Go do your job and save him and get rid of those bullies!"

"Yeah, but I don't really think that's a----"

"MOVE!"

Suddenly the cow ran towards him, causing Drover to freak out and run in the direction that the strays were in. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

* * *

Buster and the gang were about to rip little Roscoe apart but before they could they heard the sound of a "yip yip yip" and a streak of white running towards them. Buster recognized Drover at once.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the pint-sized sidekick? Where's your friend, Mister Big Talker? Too scared to fight me so he sent his tiny calvary?"

Everybody started laughing, causing Drover great embarrassment. He had always been very self-conscious about his physical appearance. He considered being a stub-tailed runt as a handicap.

"Um...he's not here right now, so I'm here to tell you to back off," Drover told Buster, his whole body quivering. He figured it would not be smart to tell him that Hank had been killed. If he knew that, Buster would really take over the ranch then!

"YOU are telling ME to back off?" Buster laughed, followed by everyone else snickering.

Drover felt like an idiot. But he couldn't let these guys cause trouble on the ranch. Hank would not be very happy about that.

"Yeah, so....back off!" Drover said a little more firmly.

Buster stopped laughing and started towards Drover. Drover started backing up, afraid that Buster was going to pounce on him or rip out his throat.

"No, YOU back off, pipsqueak," Buster said nastily. "I'm here to grab a calf so me and boys won't starve. And if you have a problem with that, you can relay the message to your boss. And if HE has a problem with it, he can talk to me about it himself. Got it?"

Drover could only nod.

"Good. Come on, boys. Fun time is over. These two ruined my appetite."

Buster turned to head towards the road. Muggs and the other two dogs glared at Drover and followed suit. Drover let out a sigh of relief and felt faint. He thought he was a goner for a second!

"Hey, mister?" Roscoe asked quietly. "Mister, you okay? Boy, I thought that jerk was gonna eat you!"

Drover had forgotten all about the puppy. In fact this was the first he had even seen him. Actually, upon looking at him Drover felt a sudden rush of fright.

_Hank? That kid looks like Hank! But...it can't be Hank, Hank's dead. Oh drat, I hope this isn't some kind of reincarnation thing and Hank's come back to haunt me for doing a bad job!_

"Um...yeah, I thought he was too..."

"But, wow, that was awesome! You were so brave telling that guy to back off and leave!"

Drover's ears perked up. "Really? You thought I was brave?"

"Yeah, of course! Even when he got up in your face and threatened you, you stayed cool. That was great!"

"No fooling? Gee, thanks," Drover told him, his stub tail wagging for the first time in a long time.

"You're welcome. By the way, I'm Roscoe," the little pup stated, sticking out a little paw to shake with just like Maggie had taught him to.

Drover felt silly shaking paws with a puppy but he did it to be nice. "I'm Drover. So um....what are you doing here?"

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot! I'm tryin' to find where my Uncle Hank is. My mom told me I could visit him and learn how to be a cowdog. You know where he is?"

Drover's heart sank and his gut tightened. This pup was Hank's nephew? Oh dear, how was he going to explain this? He hated to let the little guy down that his uncle wasn't around but he figured nobody else would be able to do it.

"I think we need to have a talk."

* * *

Well, looks like Drover and Roscoe have made friends with each other, even though now Drover has to tell Roscoe the news about Hank. And will Buster be back to stir up more trouble?


	7. Drover's Deputy

_**Drover, Head of Ranch Security**_

**Chapter Seven: Drover's Deputy**

Roscoe could hardly believe the words that had come out of Drover's mouth. The whole world seemed to crash down all around him as he realized that his lifelong hero had disappeared just like THAT. He wondered how his mother would react.

"Uncle Hank's really gone?" he sniffled as he looked up at Drover with teary eyes.

Drover nodded sadly. He hated that he had to be the one to tell the puppy the news. Roscoe was much too young to have to deal with a family death, especially when that certain relative happened to be your idol.

Roscoe wiped his eyes with his right front paw, not liking the wet feeling on his face. Drover wasn't really sure what he could say to comfort him; he was still trying to comfort _himself_. Boy, life in general seemed to have gotten harder since Hank left.

"All I ever wanted was to be a cowdog like Uncle Hank," Roscoe said to no one in particular as he started at the dirt. "So much for _that_. Now I'll have to go home and get adopted as a town dog like Mother wants."

Suddenly, the pup's head shot up and he got an excited look in his eye. "Hey, I know! Drover, _you_ can teach me how to be a cowdog!"

Drover nearly fainted. "Wh-what? Who, me?"

"Yes, you! You were Uncle Hank's friend, right?"

The white dog rolled his eyes around. "Yeah, I guess...."

"And so you had to have learned some stuff from him, right?"

Drover had a bad feeling about this. "Uh...maybe _some_ stuff...but listen, I'm not exactly qualified to---"

Roscoe was bouncing up and down on his four paws now. "Oh come on, Drover, _please_? I'll be a great assistant, you won't get any trouble out of me! I'm a quick learner, you won't regret it! Oh, please oh please oh _please_??"

"Wow, you're really sure about this, aren't you?" Drover asked with a sigh.

"Sure as I've ever been! This'll be so much fun! We can herd cattle, chase cats, beat up monsters!" Roscoe was started to ramble to himself now. "Go after rustlers, tear up coyotes, go to war with the dogcatcher---"

Drover felt sick to his stomach and the pasture seemed to be spinning in circles. All those things Roscoe was naming off for them to do was all stuff that Hank had always entitled himself to do.....all the stuff that Drover had skipped out on. How in the world was he going to live up to his new deputy's expectations? Not to mention how was he even going to do any of that stuff to begin with? He had no clue what to do!

"Doesn't that sound like fun, Drover? Drover?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Great. Real fun. Oh boy. Boy howdy. Yippee. Yeehaw."

"Great! I can't wait! So what do we do first?"

Drover cocked his head to one side, signaling confusion. "First?"

"You know, what do we do first? You have to start the day off doing something first or you'll never get to what's second."

Drover thought about that. It seemed to make sense. But he still didn't know the answer to the question. Maybe he could make up stuff as he went along and then he'd piece it all together from there.

"Well...let's see here," Drover muttered to himself as he tried to think of something Hank-like to do....something that was relatively safe anyhow.

Roscoe was wagging his tail furiously and his tongue was hanging out with a very excited look on his face as he waited for Drover to come up with something to do. Drover felt so unprepared for this. He didn't want to really do _anything_, but he hated to disappoint his little friend especially after he had just learned that his wonderful, brave uncle had just passed away.

Suddenly, he heard the faint sound of Sally May's voice from the house calling his name to come get some scraps. Roscoe got distracted for a second and looked in the direction of the house.

"Who was that?"

Drover quickly had an idea. "That was Sally May, the rancher's wife. She throws out table scraps every morning for us to eat."

"Wow, really?"Roscoe asked in amazement. "We always just got this dog food that tasted like saw dust."

"Yeah, we get that too, that's why we like to take advantage of scrap time." He thought he heard Roscoe's tummy growl. "You probably need something anyhow since you travelled all this way."

"Oh yeah, I'm starving! And we need our strength so we can do cowdog stuff later, too, huh?"

"Oh...yes, of course..." Drover agreed relunctantly. He usually liked to just take a nap after eating. A full stomach always made him so sleepy! He had a feeling that this kid was going to make life a little...difficult.

* * *

Drover had made Roscoe wait around the corner of the house while Sally May dished out the scraps. The woman didn't like having stray animals near her yard and if she ever caught the pup, she would've high-tailed him back to his home in Twitchell to become a town dog. Drover didn't want to be responsible for sending Hank's nephew back to a life he didn't want to live so he figured he better help the kid out.

Sally May rubbed Drover on the head lovingly. "Poor puppy. I bet you miss smelly old Hank, even if he did always steal the best scraps. C'mere, Pete! Here, kitty kitty kitty!"

Pete yawned and stretched from his normal spot in the iris patch and lazily sauntered his way to wear his master was calling him. Drover glared at him for a second, remember what the cat had tried to do the day of Hank's funeral, but he kept his anger in check. One of Sally May's rules was not to harrass her cat and Drover for one sworn to obey those rules.

"That's a good kitty," Sally May crooned as she dished out Pete's helping on the yard side of the fence. "At least I don't have to worry about you two getting into a fight," she commented as she went back inside the house to clean up the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone, Pete turned his head to Drover and grinned. "So how's the new job, Drover? Proving to be too much for you yet?"

"No, Pete, actually it's going along quite well. I ran off some strays this morning that were bothering the cows."

Pete looked shocked. "Did you now? How very interesting. I have to congratulate you, and I feel I must apologize for ever doubting you."

Drover smiled. "Gosh, thanks, Pete!"

"Please, don't mention it. I'm surprised you've gotten a handle on the job already. Especially since it was just the other night that you were scared out of your wits by a giant hen."

Drover was immediately embarrassed, remembering the trick that J.T. Cluck and his hens had played on him. "How'd you know about that?" he asked the cat sheepishly.

"Oh, _everyone_ knows about that, Drover. The whole ranch was talking about it. How the new Head of Ranch Security is afraid of chickens." Pete began to give sympathetic glances. "I _tried _to stand up for you, Drover, _really. _Because after all, we _are_ friends even though we butt heads and all."

Drover's self-pity resurfaced itself. "Oh. That's real nice of you, Pete."

"Mmm-hmmm, it is nice of me. So nice in fact, I think I should get a reward."

"What?"

"Just a little token of your appreciation, Drover," Pete purred, twitching his tail back and forth as he spoke. "Doesn't that seem fair?"

"Um...I guess," Drover replied, getting a tad suspicious.

Roscoe suddenly bounded up, unable to take hearing anymore of Pete's mind games. "Back off, you mean ugly cat! You stop picking on Drover!"

Pete nearly flew out of his skin at the sudden appearance of the strange pup. He hissed and arched his back angrily at the growling puppy.

"Drover, who _is _this?" Pete demanded to know, not keeping his eyes of Roscoe.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Pete. I have a new deputy. Meet Roscoe---Hank's nephew."

Pete's eyes widened. "Hank's nephew? Where did _you_ come from?"

"That's none of your business, cat! Now you go away and stop trying to make Drover feel bad, or I'll come in there and rip your ears off!"

Pete stared at Roscoe for a blank second and then suddenly a grin spread across his face and he began to laugh. "Oh ho ho, haha, _you_ rip off _my_ ears! Haha, you're just like your uncle! He always thought he could get me but he couldn't. And you won't either, you silly puppy. Just _try_ to come in this garden and get me." He gave Roscoe a taunting look. "I _dare_ you."

Roscoe looked about ready to dig a hole under the fence and go after the menacing cat, but Drover gently bit the pup's tail and started to tug him away. "Drover, what are you doing! He's talking trash about us dogs! We can't let him get away with that!"

"Kid, he'd rip you to shreds!" Drover exclaimed. "Besides, you don't want to mess with _that _cat. He lives here and if we mess with him, we'll get booted out for sure."

"Yes, listen to Drover," Pete agreed. "Hank was always getting in trouble for messing with me and got his face clawed everytime." He yawned. "It would be no challenge for me to have to fight you anyhow. Come back when you're older and we'll see if you can handle me." With that (and a snooty flick of the tail), Pete turned and took his scraps back to the iris patch with him.

Drover finally released Roscoe, who was none to happy about being pulled back from a fight. "That mean ol' cat! Who does he think he is? He doesn't run this place! Wait 'til I get older, I'll drag his worthless hide all over this ranch!"

Drover wondered if Hank had been like this as a puppy. He could easily imagine it. In the meantime, maybe it would better if Roscoe stayed away from cats in general. He didn't want to be the one responsible for getting Hank's nephew into a situation where he would come out on the losing side.

Roscoe's attention suddenly diverted from Pete and onto the scraps. "Oh boy, food! Come on, Drover, let's hurry up and eat so we can go do cowdog stuff!"

Drover groaned quietly to himself.


End file.
